


Universal

by PsykoRedHead16



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Space, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Miscommunication, Original Characters - Freeform, Outer Space, Sci-Fi, Slow Burn, Space Anomalies, Space Violence, Swearing, The Powerpuff Girls, artwork, general stupidity, more tags for later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22234249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsykoRedHead16/pseuds/PsykoRedHead16
Summary: Human ingenuity has reached beyond Earth and our lunar companion only to seemingly halt at Mars.The year is 2107 and following the devastating effects of WWIII and other worldly issues, the inhabitants of Earth have finally set aside their differences in favour of unity. With heightened interest in the science field, specifically with expanding human residency, a scientific expedition is proposed.Enter Andromeda, a state of the art space craft made to withstand time itself. With it's carefully selected skeleton crew of seven, the team is set to traverse our known solar system in hopes of seeking new potential homes or useful resources to those back home.Only time will tell if their 15 year mission is a success.EDIT: 12/17/2020 - ON HOLD
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot, Paula Cracker/Murdoc Niccals, Paula Cracker/Stuart "2D" Pot
Kudos: 10





	Universal

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally posted this back in 2018 or possibly early 2019, but removed it when I realized I had less time to focus on it. Now that I'm finished school and have energy I'm going to be dedicating spare time to finishing this, my Pirate AU story and the tail end of Time To Pretend's compilation of one shots, A Moment's Reprieve. 
> 
> The characters are all here and arranged to fit the AU I've crafted around them. The ages are slightly skewed to match the timeline I created and therefore everyone listed (in the character tags) is an adult above the age of 21. I've spent a lot of time working on the events set to occur in the story and how things will pan out. The chapters will be quite long to encompass the ideas I set out in my drafts so updates may be spaced apart.
> 
> Art from chapter one is courtesy of itsamonstermin on Instagram. Here's a link to her profile: https://www.instagram.com/minding.my.inner.vision/ (This is her Gorillaz fanart instagram! She has also kindly did some amazing comics for Time To Pretend. Please give her Insta a peek!)
> 
> Thanks again!

*****

_Earth, Year 2104 - One Year Prior_

Monstrous computer operated machines buzzed and hummed in a manufacturing facility. The hour was late and not a human stirred, or rather no humans ever did. Normally functioning completely autonomous of human interaction other than occasional visits to maintain the inner workings, mechanical limbs and fine lasers created components. These particular parts were meant for energy packs composed of many pieces.

Given the state of the self-governing establishment, work continued on and on no matter the time of day. Pause was only given if Earthly disruptions occurred; or sometimes human. That was the case on this very night when all shook, rattling equipment and halting lasers. Nearby to the facility was a large testing ground for shuttle fuel and other types of flight method. As a safety protocol, the systems were supposed to stop and wait, only in this instance, until shaking ceased. The rumble was commonplace, enough to create such a protocol.

Conveyor belts and metal limbs resumed once the ground settled. Another common issue was the output of at least one faulty energy pack among hundreds. Such a minor detail was overlooked by the computer testing the product before packaging; mostly due to there being so many components that compensated for such a problem. It was a loss the company could afford, one battery in thousands that were produced daily hardly made a dent.

So without further ado the freshly made metallic boxes, casing over a hundred gold nanowire batteries all interlinked, were packed up and loaded to trucks. Seeing as the trucks, or all vehicles, lacked need for a driver the product was made, packed and delivered completely without anyone present. A testament to human ingenuity. However it was unfortunate humans couldn’t create faultless machines, not yet at least.

*****

_Earth, Year 2105 - Present Day_

He hated the overactive hustle of city life. People flooded the streets and public transit in droves, something that filled him with anxiety. He wasn’t a people person, preferred the whir of a high performance engine, gut bottoming out while rocketing to the stars.

Been a while since he had the pleasure of flying anything other than his own high.

Resting his greasy head against the faux glass of the public train he stared disdainfully at passing buildings, projected images flashing; advertisement of the future, more like assault of one’s eyes. Here he was, nearly forty and nothing to his name, a washed out fuck up on a binge. Addicted to that fleeting feeling of elation his brain tricked him into having before he smashed face first into the ground. Sometimes quite literally.

Everyone usually kept a decent distance, probably due to the rancid breath, unshaven, unwashed and scraggly appearance he kept these days. Exiting the train he made through throngs of people who spread around him like Jesus parting the red sea. His venture only took him far enough to get his needs met by a local market. Most people stared at him with sympathy, recognizing a person so low, even dirt was above them. He hated that, the pity.

Stumbling through the silent double doors his retinas were scanned and he cursed for not ducking his head. Upon entering the store a moderately humanoid looking android approached him, mechanical smile in place, voice devoid of actual emotion.

“Good evening sir, how best can I serve you today?”

It took customer service to a whole new level being harassed by a robot. He groaned and attempted to slip around the horrible imitation of a person only to have it side step back in front of him. Persistence was part of the algorithm for service androids, to sell products, please patrons and meet individual needs. He sneered at the empty minded machine.

“Get outta my way.”

“Our scans show you are particularly fond of alcoholic beverages, illicit substances and pornogra—”

Not thinking he shoved a hand over the things creepily human mouth, silencing it.

“How ‘bout you fuck off bucket of bolts, people don’t need to know my personal details. I don’t need your help, so push off.”

Sufficiently dismissed the android bowed its head partly before smiling yet again. He took his hand back, shuddering at the texture of not real skin.

“My apologies sir. Have a nice day.”

Surprisingly the machine backtracked to a charge port sitting at the entry where two other service androids stood in wait. He noticed only two other people occupied the semi-large store, a mother and snot-nosed brat. He considered it a waste having three service bots for such a small establishment. Briefly he considered lodging a complaint, he thought better and quickly made note of the doors, cameras and windows; a habit acquired from years of military training.

Bee-lining for the liquor section he ran his eyes over the generic labels from the only three companies currently making wine. A sad day indeed when recovery after a major war paved the way for even more monopolization than before. He supposed it wasn’t all terrible if the leaps and bounds in technological advancement meant anything. He hummed and hawed over what to pick when secretly he knew all of them were equally watered down and equally capable of getting him wasted. It was during those moments that the doors swished open again to reveal three men in sunglasses. He eyed them suspiciously, knowing instantly the men were looking to rob the store. Laughable the men thought themselves covert.

Sighing he hastily grabbed two large bottles and weaved through the short level shelves towards the counter. He wasn’t interested in a hold up. From the corner of his eye he caught the mother rushing her son out of the store. Unconsciously his shoulders tensed, preparing for a fight when he had no intention of involving himself. The cashier was absent which only made him more antsy to leave. He casually glanced about, watching the men circle the store like they planned to actually buy something. Anxiously he tapped his gnarly nails on the glass countertop screen.

“Oi, some service would be nice.”

He tried to be patient, snapping would attract too much attention, but that word wasn’t in his vocabulary nor was he able to stay still for long. He breathed a sigh of relief when a pimply young man in a blue shirt and name badge came out, irritated expression on his narrow face.

“Hi there,” the voice matched the pizza face brilliantly, nasally and high pitched.

At the back of his mind he contemplated why someone so dispassionate for their job even bothered. He also kept aware of where each man was located behind him, just in case.

“Yeah hi. I wanna buy this and get outta here, mind ringing us through?”

“Sure thing, sir.”

Being called sir twice in the span of twenty minutes rubbed him the wrong way, his last bit of composure was slipping.

“Hurry up.”

Said cashier rolled his eyes and rang the bottles through, bagging them in a wholly nylon bag.

“That’ll be 86.91u.”

He balked at the price.

“May as well be rounded off to 87u at that point. Daylight robbery, Christ.”

Despite his complaint he swiped a tattooed wrist over the small scanner portion of the countertop, relieved he had the savings for his alcoholic tendencies. The guy held the bag out to him, face bored. Snatching his purchase he pivoted and attempted to flee before things turned ugly. He was never so lucky. Five paces from the automatic doors he heard the men converge on the cashier.

“Don’t make a scene kid, we want the entirety of your store’s Unit Slips. Be quick ‘bout it and we don’t have to hurt you.”

He figured it was more profitable to steal items, sell them and repeat. Unit Slips normally only held up to 5000u per bar. A place like this couldn’t be pulling more than pocket change.

“Aw fuck man, c’mon I just got this job, I barely know how to work the till.”

“Listen you little pizza-faced shit for brains, do it or your boss will be cleanin’ more than spilled product, got me?”

Some indistinguishable noises came from the young guy as he dug around for whatever he needed to fulfill their request.

He sighed, his hand tightened on the nylon. They hadn’t noticed his presence, how he was hovering at the entry. He was a year out and substance abuse may have lowered his physique, but he damn well knew how to take down people twice his size. That’s what made him such a good soldier, his small stature always threw people off.

Turning around he eyed the men, taking their height and approximate weight in. In his youth his father would have concluded he was an idiot who never thought up proper plans. He would argue that his plans nine out of ten times panned out. With calculated ease he pulled a bottle from his bag and whipped it overhand at the closest man, whose back was to him. The bottle smashed directly into said man’s skull, red fluid splattering all over as he dropped heavily. Three sets of eyes landed on him. He sneered as he rushed the second man, giving the other mere moments to comprehend a bagged bottle of wine smacking at the side of his head.

Second man incapacitated, the last standing robber shouted surprised and grabbed at his wrist during his swing. It was the wrong move and with practiced ease he turned his hand until he was holding the offender’s wrist, twisting it behind the larger body. He wrenched the arm up making the man grunt in pain. Shoving the body down to the glass surface he glanced at the cashier who stared back in awe, mouth agape.

“Quit your gawking and page authorities.”

“Y—yeah, right.”

He dug his fingers through nasty light brown hair and yanked the robber’s head up before smashing it to the glass until the body went limp. Maybe a bit more force than explicitly necessary, he couldn’t care less as he pushed the man aside. Sleek, dark sunglasses survived the assault, sitting on the checkout counter. He grabbed them, sliding them into his ratty coat pocket.

“That was amazing man! You just came out of nowhere—”

He squinted when his ears were punished by the annoying voice again. The praise was welcome, but he didn’t have time to stick around for more.

“Stuff it, don’t care.”

He bemoaned the waste of his birthday gift to himself. He technically drank every day, the only difference was the purchase of two bottles instead of one. He stepped over the fallen men to reach the wine once more. The young cashier watched him intently as he pointedly grasped two fresh bottles and proceeded to the door. Best avoid more trouble which undoubtedly would come with giving a statement to authorities. It would take hours and he’d miss his favourite holographic program.

“Uh s—sir you need to pay for those.”

“You fuckin’ what?”

The audacity. He was tempted to bash the guy too but restrained himself.

“Well y—you can’t just—”

“I’ll tell you what pal, I saved your scrawny ass. Be thankful you get to go on with yer shitty little pedestrian life working retail. ‘Sides it’s my fucking birthday.”

He could see and hear the guy gulp, adams apple bobbing pitifully. He glared, waiting for the incompetent checkout boy to make his decision. It was startlingly scary he could see the gears turning from this distance.

“H—have a nice day sir.”

“Yeah, cheers.”

Leaving the establishment he grinned to himself. He should treat himself for a job well done, it had been a strangely pleasant rush subduing the men. Cracking his wine open he took a messy swig, cherry coloured liquid catching on his beard. Public intoxication was still rather illegal so he hurried into a dank alley between towering buildings. He avoided the bombardment of holographic projected adverts and painfully bright signs, flickering more and more the closer you came. He would need to backtrack if he wanted to catch his train home, for now he figured a nice buzz was in order.

Poignant reminder how awful his life had become, chasing momentary happiness through liquid poison.

*****

_International Space and Exploration Institute_

Early morning and the International Space and Exploration Institute was bustling with activity. Students and scientists wandered around, often muttering to themselves. The time was nearly one thirty am, yet laboratories were found lit up, people working on tests or theorizing. Jamie found it impressive the active interest rising from the ashes of near world annihilation and close extinction. There had been an active regard for the science field since 2083, only a year after the devastating effects of world war three had concluded. Following the spike, companies had taken hold in the fallout, crafting a fresh world with more unity, much like ISEI. Commercialization flooded the world as well, filling it with a new way to recover before a potential depression. Gleaming city-scapes were erected where barren ground lay and with it the scientific enlightenment of the 22nd century spilled out.

That was precisely why he was here so late. Briefcase in hand, suit neatly buttoned and hair combed back. His profession left him objective enough, an Administrative Accountant and Treasurer, to make a selection process for proposals. Such an occasion was no different, he strode with confidence, safe in the knowledge his choices were appropriate. Delving through hundreds of applications and suggestions took time, a month to be precise, and somehow Jamie managed to narrow it to seven persons. As per request from the Director and sponsor of the project.

Reaching his destination he knocked to alert the occupants surely waiting inside before presuming it safe to enter. His gaze met with ten men and women sat neatly along a dark conference table, ceiling to floor convex window at the end showing off the starry sky. He bowed his head in greeting and everyone gave a similar response. A woman standing at the head of the table, slightly off from the window short black hair pulled back into a tight bun, inclined her head in way of telling him to start.

Jamie stepped to the empty seat on his side and settled the sleek case on the black crystal surface.

“First I would like to thank all of you for convening at such an ungodly hour. As most are aware we met last month to discuss the vetting process for project Andromeda, which I won’t dig into.”

“You’ve come to a decision then?”

He stared down the length of the table at the head scientist.

“I’ve made my choices, yes. May I?”

Gesturing to the table, hidden screens built in, he saw her nod in consent.

“Thank you Dr. Karoda.”

Reaching down he tapped a small green circle on the edge of the table, highlighting a section of screen in the crystal surface. Opening his case he took a small metal item out and placed it upon the table. A quick minute later files flickered into view on the massive wall and on separate viewing screens in front of the others. Dr. Karoda sat to review the files.

“Since the crew needed to remain compact, weeding through hundreds was no small effort. Please understand I poured over each individual and selected them based solely on experience. Familial attachment and age played no part. Approximately 87% of them self-applied for this project so those individuals were more desirable.”

Clearing his throat, Jamie scrolled his finger through the files on his scaled down screen. A profile popped up displaying a younger man, oval yet long face, pointed nose and slicked black hair. Name written under the image along with credentials.

“Twenty-seven, graduate of biochemistry. Has experience with hydroponic gardening so he has botanical knowledge beyond his degree. Won an achievement for his doctoral thesis and following experiments, which were successful in regrowing the now no longer extinct cocoa bean. The particular breed that so many people find enjoyable in candy.”

Dr. Karoda shot an irked frown at Jamie.

“It says here he was arrested on three separate occasions for protesting corporate production of Cannabis.”

“So?”

“So, that makes him a criminal. Why would we want a criminal in this program?”

“I assured him criminal records were not a consideration when making the selection process. Protesting corporate greed and capitalism is hardly a true crime Dr. Karoda.”

Few acquiesced the statement. Dr. Karoda sniffed, incensed but allowing Jamie the floor again.

“Despite his misdeeds, he has credentials suitable for maintaining a hydroponic bay, something necessary for long trips. May I continue?”

“Please.”

He swiped again and the face of a pasty woman appeared on both the table screens and wall. Both pale and badly dressed in the image, her choppy black hair and hilariously circle glasses made her eyes bulge. Further accentuating her thin lips and somewhat plain facial structure was blood red lipstick and a small beauty mark.

“I had the pleasure of meeting this lovely lady face to face during our convention last year. Her mind is as sharp as her wit. She’s twenty-nine and has two separate degrees in astronavigation and communications. Currently she works as a Communications Officer for ISEI for the long range colonial communications department, United Kingdom branch.”

Dr. Karoda scanned over the file, lips pressed together firm. Jamie waited to contend with a rebuttal, but surprisingly received none. The scientist gave him a dip of her head to keep going. He always found her approval hard won, but certainly worth it.

“She mentioned in passing her passion for star charting, citing how she did so in her free time. I happened to see a couple at the convention, flawless. Someone of this caliber is necessary for keeping the crew on course or making corrections.”

Still he met no complaints. He brought up the next file and with practiced ease discussed the qualities each person held. His first sign of resistance was brought up after the presentation. Dr. Karoda stood with intent, face stern.

“All choices are acceptable, except one.”

“Oh?”

He knew exactly which one. Never one to dance around the issue she pushed on.

“Repeated offences. Public intoxication, indecent exposure, illicit drug use— manslaughter! Jamie this is not an appropriate choice, not at all.”

“He is more experienced than Nat—”

“A drunkard with a record. Please tell me you have a second option.”

She said it with a short, humourless laugh. Other members muttered among themselves. Jamie could see he was losing this fight.

“I believe he’d be amenable to cleaning up for the program.”

Dr. Karoda tilted her head, face turning sour.

“You went ahead didn’t you? You’ve requested his reinstatement if he complies. Christ Jamie! This project is on time restraints, we can’t have a repeat offender with addiction problems coming and going every time he has a binge. We need dedicated people, smart people. People who actually have an interest in what we’re doing here.”

“Haruka has a point, how can we trust a man this deeply unsettled?”

Jamie glanced to the greying chief of theoretical sciences. The pensive look made him sigh. Said chief spoke up again.

“Say we allow him in— just let me finish Jamie, say we do and he just mucks things up, say that’s five months into the program. That’s five months for the new candidate to catch up on, it’s such a high risk you’re asking of us. We barely have a month left sending out acceptance letters before training starts.”

Motioning everyone to settle, Jamie exhaled a deep, agitated breath.

“I’m the neutral outlier trusted to be objective while browsing the choices. I’ve done that. You lot cannot show disquiet now, these are final picks. I’ve already submitted them to the head director and sponsor on the project. My job was to inform everyone of that.”

“Of course you have.”

“We’ll set him on a month probationary period. If he can’t follow form he’s gone. A month isn’t hard to catch up on.”

Displeased, many members of the board murmured between others. Jamie massaged the bridge of his nose. Snatching the little device from the table he tucked it away. The screen went blank.

“One month Jamie, if he cannot fix himself up, I’ll personally escort him out.” Dr. Karoda stared him down while he closed the case.

Forgoing an eye roll, Jamie nodded, bowed and vacated the board room before more nonsense could occur. Safe from prying eyes he loosened his tie with a satisfied groan, thankful he could go home now. Checking his wrist a small digital clock hovered over top of his skin, underneath was an uneven bar code.

“Bugger.”

He wouldn’t get more than six hours if he was lucky. Fatigue seeped into his muscles at the thought.

“Jamie.”

Pausing in the hallway he heaved a great sigh before facing Dr. Karoda. She approached him with purpose, lab coat fluttering. He wasn’t in a mood to deal with her aggravation.

“Natalie is capable, she’s been training and studying for nearly nine years. You put her down as co-pilot. My daughter is nobody’s co-captain, especially not a washed out asshole like Niccals.”

“Haruka your daughter is twenty-five and impressive, yes, but nowhere near prepared for a position of this magnitude.”

Jamie left his voice level. He was conscious of the estranged relationship Natalie and Haruka had. Completely aware that she boosted her career before she spent time with the girl after her husband passed. The woman loved her daughter, unfortunately Natalie saw the constant patronizing to do better, to exceed the limit as never being good enough for her mother. It was a shame they couldn’t connect.

“So you’re saying she has to play second fiddle, regardless of talent?”

“He has over seventy-five thousand hours of flight both in and out of combat, zero-gravity training, and what’s more he’s a highly experienced aerospace mechanical engineer.”

He held his hand up disallowing her to speak when she attempted. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to finish, foot tapping impatiently.

“What you fail to recognize is, your daughter does not have any engineering skills other than tinkering. She has piloting knowledge but no actual hours dedicated to flight. She’s a microbiologist Haruka, she was picked for that, not her piloting. I’m sorry you find that upsetting but I cannot soothe your frustrations. Be happy she was picked at all.”

Affronted, Haruka endeavoured to find words for her ire. Jamie tilted his head ending their conversation with satisfaction, taking leave. Dr. Karoda muttered in her native tongue before hastily walking the opposite way.

With distance the ache in his shoulders eased and he took a more calming breath. Once out in the cool air of morning twilight he smiled. Upon approaching, his vehicle’s door slid open and started up while he sat on the booth seat. Placing aside the case he shucked the blazer and tie, then undid his cuffs. The door sealed with a small click.

“Take me home. Also set a reminder to call the Aero-Training Agency in France.”

The in car computer confirmed the set up by briefly beeping. Reclining against the cushy seat, Jamie watched the world whizz by while his car joined others along the highway system. A neon image danced against a building, advertising a company called Double Helix, offering body modifications and genetic alterations. He snorted, to think people actually paid for that. More still displayed food adverts, all expenses paid trip to Mars and much less legible things as he drifted away from the city hub.

“Oh, before I forget, send out acceptance letters to everyone minus Niccals, I’ll need to visit him with some sort of backup.”

The computer beeped again. His vehicle buzzed down the suburban area with actual homes. With city sprawl it was rare to see proper houses, much less one with a yard. Apartment blocks stacked to the clouds were the home of the future. Depending on your financial status you could live in lavish comfort, or barely scrape by with a plain stone and glass box.

His car parked at his place of residence, setting down gently, door opening for him once again. Maybe it was pretentious of him, being proud of his house despite working tooth and nail for it. Mind already set for sleep he tiredly roamed into the two floor lodging, divesting his clothes and doing without bedtime rituals to pass out on his bed. He could worry about Niccals tomorrow, or rather later today.

*****

Contacting the Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Jamie honestly did not expect such a congenial man on the other end. Jamie was further amazed when said Marshal agreed to attend the subsequent confirmation of reinstatement during the confrontation. He assumed, wrongly apparently, that such a man of high esteem would prefer an underling do the job. So there he found himself meeting the Marshal outside the United Militia UK unit building, dressed to meet long dead royals.

“Good afternoon Marshal Johnson, I’m Jamie, we spoke earlier.”

He stuck his palm out, poised and polite. The Marshal smiled pleasantly, shaking the proffered hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet you Jamie, you can refer to me as Simon, no need for formalities.”

Despite the Marshal being in full uniform, medals decorating his chest, Jamie nodded slowly. Both took their hands back and Jamie directed to his vehicle.

“If you could step this way, we can be off. I just have to reconfirm Mr. Niccals location and we can approach him. Thank you again for coming along.”

“Not a bother really, mostly doing paperwork these days. Pretty exciting to get out occasionally.” Something the accountant could relate to wholly.

“There must be other tasks more thrilling than a trip out with an accountant. Computer, please locate one Murdoc Alphonse Niccals.”

While the car remained still, hovering in spot, the computer searched for the specified man. Simon chuckled.

“My wife is an accountant, believe it or not we always find something to discuss even after forty years of marriage.”

‘Murdoc Alphonse Niccals is currently at commercial residence Double Helix on Haelstrom street, central London. Plotting course.’

Jamie begged any unseen forces the man wasn’t inebriated and asking for something ridiculous. Simon seemed unperturbed by the information, rather at ease as the vehicle set off for said location.

“Your wife, which company does she work for? She wouldn’t happen to be Erma Johnson?”

“She’s one and the same, lovely isn’t she?”

Not wanting to start an argument over Erma’s cut throat attitude in the accounting world, Jamie made a noncommittal noise of agreement. Simon seemingly picked up on his discomfort and gave a hearty laugh, slapping Jamie in a friendly manner.

“A real hoot, she’s put up with me this long. She can be a real catty person in the office, but she means well. Takes the work too serious if you ask me.”

“Her methods are unorthodox, any time we’ve crossed paths she seems to find me at least okay at my job.”

“Hell, that’s high praise that is. Should have seen her in the hay day, real firecracker my Erma. Still is. Love her to pieces, would be lost without her.”

Some part of him longed for that, a woman willing to stick around. Maybe one day.

The landscape became denser the closer they came to skyscrapers, a few streams of traffic working through buildings above them. People filled the hub, disappearing into transit trains, entering or exiting stores and interacting around seating areas. Jamie caught sight of the familiar advert flashing above them, a DNA strand wiggling back and forth. The car smoothly followed a path into the underground parking, which consisted of an open location with numerous vehicles on grey strips against the walls.

“I’m not entirely sure you know the state of Mr. Niccals, he may be belligerent.”

“I’m quite aware of his volatile nature, rest assured.”

Of course, this was the Marshal he was speaking too. They stepped from the vehicle as it parked with other cars automatically. A pale faced android greeted them at the level one parking turbo lift, it remained where it was posted as they boarded and rode upwards.

“You think this project will fix him? He’s always been difficult, even before his accident.”

“Addiction is just a mental illness and when properly treated people can recover, improve and move forward. At least that’s what I keep telling myself to justify my choice.”

Simon nodded. The lift halted at the office floor and the doors parted to reveal the reception room where three uncomfortable customers sat as far from the front desk as possible. Jamie cursed his luck when he spotted a rather ratty and clearly drunk man slumped into the desk waving a voucher. The slim chairs lined either side of the room, separated by the odd plant. Where Murdoc stood the desk came to the man’s chest and wrapped around the entire end of the room, two doors on either side before the desk. Jamie watched a moment, the Marshal took up residence to the side of the turbo lift doors, ready to assist if necessary. He recognized the steady pose of a military man at attention.

“L—Look ‘ere doll, y’see this ticke—voucher! Yes, this voucher is for one free alteration a—and I want— no need some lovely demon wings!”

Murdoc hiccuped as he slapped the slip down to the desk, inching it closer to the unfortunate receptionist opposite to him. She snatched the voucher from him and held it out for him to see, fingers pinching each side. Her voice was forcefully cheerful while she gave him a tight smile.

“And as I have explained to you more than once sir, this particular voucher is both expired and only valid for a level one alteration, which pertains to cosmetic changes only. Such as hair, skin, eyes and so on.”

Blearily Murdoc frowned at her, bloodshot eyes unable to focus through his alcoholic haze. Jamie cautiously advanced towards the drunk.

“I w—wanna speak tah your manager. Yeah. Get your manager.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Niccals, may I have a moment of your time t—”

“Oi mate fuck off will yeah? ‘M tryin’ to d—deal with something.”

Plain to see the receptionist stepped away uneasy and tense. Jamie saw her clenched fists. Murdoc grunted while he waited. Clearing his throat, Jamie tried again.

“Mr. Niccals, please, only a short moment.”

“Bloody hell, what?”

Lolling his head just enough to make eye contact, Murdoc sneered at Jamie.

“I’m part of a board of directors working for ISEI, short for the—”

“I fucking know what it is. Hurry up.”

“I was tasked with giving a list of candidates to the head director and sponsor for the Andromeda project, a fifteen year science expedition. With your history and background I placed you in the roster for lead pilot.”

A lengthy minute passed where Murdoc stared silently, disbelieving and still unbearably drunk. He buried his face into a stained sleeve, muffling a hard laugh. Jamie groused at the reaction.

“I’m serious. I went through a fair amount of trouble to have your application accepted. Nobody else met the requirements for lead pilot, so much so I had to submit your form myself.”

“You hear yourself? Fucking look at me. What makes you think I’ll fly your ship?”

“I’ve personally requested your reinstatement if you decide to join the project.”

“Reinstatement?”

Murdoc let a lazy whistle slip out, pretending to be impressed. The manager stepped out and came to the desk, her face set in a determined glower. Jamie gestured for a moment and she huffed but stepped away.

“Yes reinstatement, Royal Air Marshal Johnson was kind enough to confirm the decision should you agree.”

“Fuck off. Having a laugh at my expense.”  
Jamie back peddled when Murdoc lunged at him and then started to waver. The drunk groped at the desk to steady himself.

“Mr. Niccals I suggest you consider the offer, it’s generous. You would have your life back, a job you enjoy and positive recognition.”

Jamie took a metallic device from the inner pocket of his blazer and reached towards the scraggly drunk. Tucking it into the breast pocket he gave Murdoc a pleasant smile.

“Think of it as a reset, a second chance.”

Flailing his arms and smacking Jamie away Murdoc grunted, turned and wobbled out of the reception office. Simon Johnson eyed the shorter man but only caught greasy, curled hair and hunched shoulders. The other patrons watched the exchange in silence. Glancing to the manager and receptionist Jamie nodded to them.

“Have a lovely day ladies. Sorry for the scene.”

Both women shared a look, confused, while the Marshal and Jamie took the second turbo lift down. If Jamie was honest the encounter had been less excitable than expected.

*****

His three hundred square foot flat was located on the fortieth floor in a downtown section dedicated to common residency, a nice way to say dirt poor.

The end of his apartment was entirely window, blurred to keep the interior dim because he preferred dark. The faux concrete walls and floors made the inside cold and unwelcoming. Electronic components were collecting dust in corners, dirty dishes piled in and around the sink by the kitchen section and unwashed clothes littered the floor. Murdoc barely tried anymore, nobody had to see his home and there was no need to keep up appearances. The atmosphere carried a thick smell of uncleanliness, stinking like unwashed underpants and moldy, unidentified food.

He yanked his shirt off over his messy head, dropping it with other articles. He scratched the small gut he had started to develop as he looked for his recent purchase. Grabbing for the wine, all he could actually afford given his small military pension, he spotted a little flat metal rectangle that the Jamie bloke had shoved in his coat two days ago. Lips thinning he shook his head and walked away, leaving the bottle too. He didn’t need a free hand out, he was fine. Of course he was.

Only an hour later, three quarters through his bottle he found himself lying half off the shabby couch, arm draped on the floor, limply holding said wine. He used his other hand to hold the device up while he eyed it suspiciously. His embarrassing show of drunken stupidity at Double Helix and Jamie’s words lingered in his jumbled head.

A second chance. A reset. Nobody had ever bothered reaching out to him after the incident a year ago, not even his supposed friends. Clutching the metal object in his palm he rested it over his bare chest. Would it be so bad accepting a helping hand?

“What the fuck should I do Cortez?”

The hyper realistic animatronic bird ruffled its synthetic feathers, resettling on its perch in the corner. It gave a static sounding noise, cheap imitation to an actual raven. Hardly an answer, but after years fiddling with the bird to perfect it, Murdoc understood what it meant.

‘Get off your sorry ass.’

Shifting he brought the bottle to his lips, pausing to uncurl his other hand. Glancing at the device he heaved a weary sigh. Casually tossing the object onto a black table top connected to his wall screen; everything lit up right away. Projected on the view screen was an acceptance letter, text large enough to read from his position against the filthy couch. Taking a sip, Murdoc used his holographic wrist device to scroll through the letter. Maybe it was desperation for recognition again or having a name not associated with disgrace that made him contemplate the program seriously.

Highlighting the address listed for the training facility he groaned. It was an entire country over and the expected date of arrival was four days from now. Scrubbing his unkempt face he stared at the ceiling.

“What the hell am I thinking? I can’t do this.”

The bird gave a squeaky mechanical caw.

“I know that!”

Frustrated he smacked the bottom of his wine against the floor, which was only covered by a thin mat. The bottle cracked and began leaking onto the wooden covering.

“For fuck sake.”

In a fit of pique he tossed the offending alcoholic beverage over the couch. A resounding crash made him jerk then cover his face, momentarily shamed by his erratic behaviour. He couldn’t keep living like this, it wasn’t healthy. First step to recovery would be admitting there was a problem and seeking the help necessary.

“Computer get me a ticket for Paris, France. Christ I’m actually goin’.”

He would need to make himself moderately presentable lest he appear laughable among the other candidates. Maybe a shave and shower, a feeble attempt to come across like someone in control of their life.

*****

_Aero-Training Agency, France_

Weather steadily got warmer as the day progressed into early afternoon. He wandered up the stone steps towards the looming building, hands safely tucked in trouser pockets. A comforting weight was pressed to his chest from an inner coat pocket. A gift from a nameless ex-girlfriend capable of holding a decent amount of liquid. So he wasn’t completely sober, but he had forced himself to stay on the line, it helped his nerves.

Entering the place he examined the interior, eyes jumping from doors to people, counting everything mentally. Within the main entry a large model space shuttle floated in an image of space projected around it. Surrounding the somewhat round area were seven foot tall touch interactive information screens. Beyond the base of the projection unit was a desk with multiple persons either dealing with calls or talking to patrons. Not sure where he should go he casually made his way through the open space for the desk, avoiding a couple excited children running around. He hated crowds.

Beyond the desks were two glass staircases curving up to the right and left respectively. At the base of them were seating areas, spread out between plants and glass partitions. An impressive stain-glass window covered a marginally big portion of the back wall. Light streaming in cast soft colours over the lounge furniture. Lip curling at seeing some service androids he waited until a human was available before stepping over.

On either end of the elongated desk were glass gates to halt normal guests from wandering to restricted areas past reception. He thought back to the letter, wondering if he needed some code to pass through.

“Hello sir, how can I help you today?”

He kept his hands tucked away and examined her name tag before peering at her pudgy face. Her tone was cordial.

“Lookin’ for the Andromeda Orientation thingy.”

“Project Andromeda training Orientation is only open to select people, are you on the list of approved participants?”

Normal circumstances would dictate a person gave their name to confirm. Murdoc chewed his bottom lip, self conscious of any conflict mentioning his name would bring up. She blinked, waiting patiently.

“Er— y’see I’m an engineer.”

Raising a brow she looked at her computer before looking back to him. Her cheery demeanour was dissipating.

“I have two engineers listed. I need your name and identification to confirm. Please understand this program isn’t open to the general public, so if you’re not who you say you are, we’ll have a slight problem.”

Wincing he leaned closer over the counter between them, at this angle he could see some of her screen. He tried to appear relaxed even with her narrowing her eyes at his odd behaviour.

“Stuart. Electrical engineer.”

“Alright Mr. Tusspot if you could just confirm your identity over our scanner.”

As she spoke she motioned to the strip on the counter. Wetting his lips he gave her a small charming smile and intentionally swiped his wrong wrist over it. The computer beeped and the strip turned blue. She hadn’t noticed the use of his opposite wrist.

“Looks like our systems couldn’t read that, could you try again please.”

Obliging he repeated the same gesture, completely aware he was lying to her face and attempting to cheat the computer. Again the system beeped and the device turned blue. She became momentarily flustered when an error message popped up.

“I’m sorry Mr. Tusspot it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“Listen doll I don’t wanna be late for this, there’s a Jamie gentleman who could confirm my identity. Maybe give him a call?”

“Mr. Hewlett isn’t in yet, but I’ll confirm when he arrives. I’m sorry for the delay, please go on ahead. You just need to go upstairs and there should be a directory to the room. Have a nice day Mr. Tusspot.”

She pressed a button and a glass gate on the left end of the desk parted. He hid his smirk as he nodded to her and stepped on through. Whoever that Stuart fellow was would be in for a surprise, thinking about it made guilt toil in his gut. He ignored it in favour of mounting the stairs and finding the directory she spoke of. Finding it he got directions for the conference room, heading there. He briefly paused outside the room and took a gulp from his small flask. He wiped his mouth, put the item back into his jacket and finally entered the room quietly.

The conference room was designed like a small amphitheater with twenty rows of seating and a podium at the bottom. He could see two people in the first few rows, discussing things among themselves. Neither of them alerted to his sudden appearance, which he preferred. Slipping into the seats at the top row he sat dead center and relaxed against the wall. Fiddling on his wrist device he looked up information on the Andromeda program to kill time. As the minutes ticked by more people trickled in, he observed two women and one man take seats at odd spots close to the front. Soon after them a bunch of scientists came in, then a man in what Murdoc could only describe as pre-WWIII clothing; it was gaudy.

Thinking that was all he eased up again only to jolt when a tall man with brown hair stomped in abruptly, followed by Jamie. The voice carried a thick accent and sounded rather agitated.

“How does someone fake me identity in this day and age? Those scanners are suppose to be fool proof Jamie! Fool proof.”

Jamie patted the lanky man on the shoulder.

“I’m sure it was a mistake Stu, come, let's have a seat.”

 _'So that’s the Stuart guy.'_ Murdoc briefly entertained the idea of apologizing, but it passed swiftly and he remained where he was.

Fleetingly he hoped nobody came and kicked him out for that stunt. He was hidden enough at the back to be missed. He breathed a sigh of relief when both men bypassed him. Something told him this gentleman would let the oversight slide, they would be crew mates after all. Someone cleared their throat at the front and very quickly the room fell silent. Plucking his flask out to feel how empty it was he sighed. Only a quarter remained. Hardly listening to introductions made by the man in grossly bright clothes, he let his mind wander, hoping in vain this orientation would be quick.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for giving this a read! This chapter is mainly a world building precursor to the story taking off.
> 
> Thank you so much to Erin on Instagram for giving me permission to use your amazing picture you did of Murdoc in chapter one. I appreciate you so much and all the support you've given me during my creative process! 
> 
> Another thank you to my boyfriend for allowing me to bounce ideas off him for a year during the creation of this story. Your assistance in crafting some of the content and references has been such an inspiration!
> 
> NOTE: Pay attention to details in this story, some things may crop up later ;)


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